


Briefing

by Salmon_Pink



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 13:11:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5627821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe goes to his knees for her, and Leia smiles the same way she always does, with humour and <i>heat</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Briefing

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for _The Force Awakens_. Set before _The Force Awakens_. Written for [All Bingo](http://allbingo.dreamwidth.org/), prompt "kneeling", and for [The Force Awakens Kink](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org), [prompt](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1082.html?thread=58170#cmt58170) "Leia/Poe, cunnilingus. They have mutual respect and Poe adores her and this is something he can do for her".

“You have your orders, Commander,” Leia says, the words a dismissal, yet her smile is anything but. Poe can’t keep back his own grin, and it only grows wider when he folds himself down to the floor, kneeling at her feet.

Her eyes always _dance_ for that.

“Do you really have time for this, Poe?” she teases. As if he wouldn’t find all the time in the world for her, as if he wouldn’t find all the time in the _galaxy_. He tilts his head back, baring the line of his throat to her. Leia’s always liked that, liked how easily and beautifully he submits to her gaze.

He can’t imagine there’s a single being out there that would be able to resist falling to their knees in front of General Leia Organa. Poe thanks his lucky stars every day that he’s actually allowed to do just that.

“Don’t worry,” he assures her, confident and mischievous, “I can be remarkably efficient.”

That gets a genuine laugh out of her, deep and rich, and he tries not to look _too_ proud of himself. 

Leia’s hand reaches out, fingertips trailing over his hairline and down to cup his chin. Poe squeezes his hands into fists to try to quell the urge to lean into the touch, instead keeping his eyes clear and bright and fixed on her face. She’s right, he’s due elsewhere - that X-wing won’t fly itself. And if he gives in and lets himself melt over her petting him like this, well, he won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

She nods, a small incline of her head, as if she’s thinking the same thing as him. Her hand slips away from him, her body taking a step back, and then she’s lifting the lightweight material of her dress, and Poe bites his lip, heat creeping up his neck.

“As much as I’d like to take my time,” she smirks, fabric gathered at her waist, “I believe you promised me _speed_.”

Poe’s grin is the same one he wears when he flies, sure and happy and cocky. “Whatever you say, _ma’am_.”

Leia doesn’t voice her laughter this time, but it’s there in her eyes, and if he were closer he’s sure she’d give his hair a pointed tug for that one. She’s always liked his cheek, and always liked making him pay for it. Almost as much as Poe likes being made to pay.

He half-shuffles, half-crawls forward, knees moving over the floor. He’s getting what he wants, what they _both_ want, but she’s still making him work for it, just a little, as much as time will allow.

She’s so _perfect_.

Her hand braces against her desk, her boots between his knees. Poe takes a moment to just inhale the _scent_ of her, that thick sex smell that makes his mouth water. She’s already flushed, and he presses his lips to the deep pink of her clit with a groan that reverberates through his chest.

His cock throbs inside his flight suit for Leia’s soft sigh.

Poe opens his mouth, ripples his tongue against her. No time to draw it out, rocking forward on his knees to really push himself against her folds, fucking his face down as he licks lower. She tastes incredible, opening up to him, his nose bumping up against her clit when her hips shift forward.

Her leg comes up, and his hand clings to her thigh as she eases it over his shoulder. It makes it easier to lick his way into her, feeling that sweet give of her muscles as his tongue moves inside. Leia’s weight is balanced between the floor and his body, and he loves the way it weighs him down, makes him feel surrounded by her _warmth_.

His neck aches a little, his knees are sore, he’s so hard he’s starting to _hurt_ , but all Poe cares about is coaxing that next moan from her. Grinding his lips against her, the taste getting stronger and stronger, her pleasure smeared across his chin. He hums softly, a quiet murmur of appreciation, and Leia’s hips roll towards him, her heel digging in against his back.

Poe holds her hips as she comes, his mouth dragging against her, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Leia steps back slowly, her leg slipping carefully from his shoulder and her dress falling back into place as she releases the fabric at her waist. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes _sparkling_ , but she still looks as poised and polished as ever. Poe knows that even if she were dishevelled, she’d still manage to look refined as well - her natural grace and presence always shines through.

Poe looks up at her and runs his tongue over his teeth.

“I’ve _told_ you about calling me ‘ma’am’ at times like these,” she admonishes him playfully. She reaches forward to touch his chin again, her thumb leisurely swiping across his damp lower lip. His mouth falls open obediently when she pushes against it, kissing the pad of her thumb before sucking at it, another rush of her flavour across his taste buds. “What _am_ I going to do with you?”

He smirks around her thumb, giving the skin a light nip that makes her press down against his tongue, the corner of her mouth lifting as she shakes her head in mock-reproachfulness.

The toe of her boot moves to rest lightly against his crotch, and Poe sucks in a quick breath, her thumb still stroking at his tongue. “I believe you’ve wasted too much time already, Poe,” she says, and her boot pushes down a little more firmly, Poe’s knees digging awkwardly into the floor as he tries to buck up into it. “Unfortunately _this_ will have to wait until later.”

He’s breathing harder when she removes both her thumb and her boot from his body, sweat prickling at the back of his neck. He can feel where he’s leaking precome against the inside of his underwear, and Poe’s damn thankful that the flight suit is thick enough that no wet patch will show through.

“Come back to me in one piece,” Leia tells him pointedly, “and maybe then we’ll continue.”

There’s no ‘maybe’ about it, of course, the look in her eyes a guarantee that she’ll enjoy reducing him a gasping, writhing _wreck_ when his mission is through.

Poe’s legs are stiff when he pushes himself back to his feet, but it’s the kind of discomfort that he enjoys, and it’ll make a nice distraction from the way his cock chafes beneath his clothes. His squadron will be waiting for him in the hangar; he only hopes it won’t be too obvious how _hard_ he is.

“Good luck, Poe,” she says fondly. “May the Force be with you.”

He gives her a lop-sided smile. “And with you, _ma’am_.”

He’s looking forward to paying for _that_ one on his return, and Leia’s laughter follows him from the room.


End file.
